Saving planets, Hunting Aliens, The Timelord business
by tardis221bimpala
Summary: The Winchester brothers investigate a case where many people have gone missing in an actionless portion of Wyoming. However, they are shocked to find that all the victims were supernatural creatures. Did another hunter do their job for them? And who is this mysterious man claiming to be called "The Doctor?"


Dean quietly maneuvered the dark hall of the abandoned warehouse. The torn canvas paper that was draped all over the hall brushed against his ear, trying to remain cool he casually brushed it away. The unpleasant tickling of canvas paper was soon replaced with an ice-cold trickle of what Dean hoped was water seeping through the ceiling.

He carefully avoided the scattered glass adorning the floor in order to minimize the noise his boots made. he raised his hand-gun prepared for anything to leap out of the shadows at any moment.

He heard a quite crunching behind him, and recognized it as identical to his own footfalls on the glass-coated floor. He stopped and his follower stopped as well. Dean braced himself to be faced with some hell-spawned creature complete with shark-like teeth just for good measure. His eyes flicked down to the shadow the creature cast to calculate how big this son of a bitch was.

Tall. Very Tall. He'd have to shoot high.

Finger on the trigger he whirled around.

He immediately recognized his pursuer to be his brother, Sam, as no one could else had such an emense stature. Sam looked down on him with a sort of mock surprise.

"Shut up." Dean growled.

"Didn't say anything." Sam chuckled lightly as his brother gruffly tried to shake off his moment of fear.

Together, the Winchesters continued trekking down the seemingly endless hall. An upon reaching the rusting double doors at the end. Dean wordlessly motioned for them to stand on either side and kick them in. The brothers silently prepared themselves for the unknown monster that was just beyond the only half painted doors.

_One. Two. Three. _Dean mouthed and they burst into the room before them in unison. Guns ready to open fire on whatever poor creature decided to cross paths with them today.

The hall was flooded with dusty sun light and a smell that could only be compared to rotting flesh. The floor was on a concrete slightly lopsided slant, and was dangerously cracking in more places than one.

Not to mention the room was also littered in bodies.

The Winchesters quietly rounded a pillar taking in their surroundings, and adapting to the blinding sunlight. Dean let out a low whistle as he took in the vast amount of bodies piled across the large room. He crouched down next to the corpse of a young man in his early twenties who was lying face down in a pool of blood. Dean turned him over, and his head rolled at angle that wasn't exactly healthy.

Once he was completely flipped onto his back, it was easy to see that the cause of death was his throat being slit. Clean through the bone. The only thing keeping it attached to the body was a thin strip of skin and some flesh.

"What's in his mouth?" Sam asked in a hushed tone from behind Dean.

Dean looked at the mans mouth and it did look rather full. Like he's been in the middle of eating when he got decapitated.

He cautiously opened the mouth, to reveal long dagger-like teeth stained with blood.

"A vamp. Maybe someone already was here and took care of business for us?" Dean asked but already knew the answer. Their luck isn't what most would call fortunate.

"No, I don't think so..." Sam's voice trailed off as a walked over to the nearest body. He grabbed the shoulder of the women to turn her over, but instead her skin peeled off in Sam's hands. The tell-tale sign of a shifter.

"Great. Vamps and Shifters! Maybe they were having a party and it got a little out of hand?" Sam scowled at Dean seriously.

"In doesn't add wou-" Sam was interrupted as they heard what sounded like the screech of sneakers. Guns raised, the brothers rounded the corner to face whatever still alive.

They rounded the corner to find a man in a trench coat facing the opposite direction, staring intently are a particularly large mound of corpses.

_Cas? _No, this man's trench coat was a darker shade of brown.

"Turn around!" Dean barked authoritatively.

The man raised his hands above his head, and slowly turned around to face the boys.

He was a skinny guy with spiky brown hair. He was wearing a brown pinstriped suit under his long trench coat. He was wearing red Chuck Tailors that didn't quite match his outfit. The man also wore black glasses on his freckled, angular face.

He stared at them wide-eyed, then his attention shifted to the disheveled body slumped against the wall, and then back to the Winchesters.

Dean almost wanted to lower his gun, because this guy looked more confused than them. And that was saying something, because he was completely lost.

The man inhaled deeply and gained composure.

"I don't like guns." He stated in a thick english accent.

"Well, you wouldn't." Dean remarked indicating to the one he was pointing at the English man.

"Who are you?" Sam demanded.

"I'm the Doctor," He paused as if contemplating his situation. " ..John Smith. Doctor John Smith. Doctor John Smith is who I am."

Dean snorted out a dry laugh in response.

"Are you being serious right now? 'John Smith'" He mimicked in a strong mildly-offensive cockney accent, "That's the best you can come up with?"

"Well, I'd expect so, considering it's my name. My mum wasn't very creative I suppose, and who may you be, lumber jack's militia?"

"We're, uh, federal agents." Sam removed the FBI badge from the top pocket of his flannel shirt, and briefly flashed it to 'John Smith.'

"Right, casual friday is it agents? Oh, I do hope it's a friday. Waking up in a room full of dead bodies isn't very pleasant, and being a friday just might make up for it. Federal agents you say? I believe that about as much as you believe that I'm named John Smith." He talked at a very rapid pace as he made his way over to the nearest body, he examined the corpse tutting loudly. "So if you're not federal agents, who are you really? Why would you be interested in these...bodies? Either you put them there here yourself, which I doubt and sincerely hope isn't true. You were on your way to a lumberjack convention and decided to make a pit stop at an abandoned warehouse. OR you're the good guys trying to figure out what happened here. So again I ask, who are you really?"

Dean looked to the man contemplatively as he continued to examine the body, but didn't answer his question. _Could he be a hunter? What, hunters international? _'John' continued tutting loudly and murmuring his findings to himself quietly.

"Well, I don't know how you two are going to react to this, but these aren't human. Actually far from it." He studied the faces of the plaid-wearing men who seemed mildly surprised. However, not as surprised as he's expect. So they weren't surprised about the fact that the bodies weren't human, but more so about the fact that he knew about it. Interesting. " But you already knew about that didn't you?"

The mans calculating expression bore into Dean making him shift uncomfortably under his gaze. He shared a brief glance at Sam, before lowering his gun from its aim at the strangers head. "Yeah, we knew" He cleared his throat. "Are you a hunter?"

John Smith took a moment to respond, contemplating how exactly to go about answering this question. "Yes, I am. But just to clarify, to know if you mean the same kind of hunter that I mean. What exactly do you mean by hunter?

"Hunter as in a hunter of supernatural creatures." Sam responded, watching John's expression carefully. His eyes widened slightly, and he raised his eyebrows. However, all-in-all he seemed like he's expected that answer.

"Seems like you and I are in the same line of business. Also another question, y'know just to clarify, does 'supernatural' cover aliens?" Their expressions were enough of an answer. "Kidding, no aliens, aliens don't exist. And another question, waking up next to a rotting body leaves your head a bit wonky, were you the ones who killed these people? Because that's what hunters do, kill things that aren't human."

"No, _John, _we, uh, we're just as lost as you."

"Please, call me the Doctor. It's what people call me, and I'm included as one of those people."

He approached Dean with an outstretched hand and a friendly expression. Dean took a moment to wonder what he had to lose, then grudgingly tucked his gun into the back of his worn down jeans and grasped the Doctors hand.

"Dean, Dean Winchester. And this is my brother Sammy."

"Sam." Sam corrected automatically.

"Alrightly then Sam and Dean Winchester, you want to know who killed these people. I want to know how I got here in the first place. We're all hunters here, so let's get this show on the road" He smiled brightly and his eyes glistened behind his rectangular glasses. He seemed believable enough, but Dean was far from putting he faith in this guy. Though he smiled outwardly he could see lies and secrets behind the so-called Doctor's façade. Dean was quite literally a professional liar, so he knew the Doctor wasn't exactly as he seemed.


End file.
